


I Crossed A Thousand Stars To Find You

by wtfoctagon



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Lena decides to stay at M.I.T. to become a professor instead of joining Luthorcorp, Mutual Pining, and look who it is to come to her rescue! none other than a disgruntled young aristocrat, but she gets kidnapped by alien slavers and has to find her way home, finally written!, krypton never explodes and Kara grows up to be a new diplomat in the consular league, my krypton au, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfoctagon/pseuds/wtfoctagon
Summary: So, there she is. Fiddling with her bracelet in her private cabin on a shuttle en route to Slaver’s Moon. A shuttle that she had to take after being dropped off at the Thoronian waypoint because direct travel from Kryptonian sovereign voidspace to any territory that hadn’t signed the anti-slavery clause of the trade treaties is forbidden. And yet, no one had deemed it necessary to tell that to the Daxamite diplomat who insisted that they conduct their meeting at a rao-damned banquet on the biggest hub of slavery in the system.





	1. Chapter 1

Kara has some…  _ choice _ words about this assignment, if she’s being honest. But she’s not. She’s not because this is her first independent assignment as a diplomat of the Kryptonian Council and asking to be reassigned is a  _ bad _ start to her career.

Not that it usually is. Diplomats, junior or senior, ask for reassignments all the time. It’s just different for  _ Kara _ . Because Kara Zor-El is the daughter of Alura In-Ze, the Master Judicator of Argos City; nothing that Kara does is ever attributed to her own merit. If she asks for a reassignment, no one would dare say no to the daughter of the most accomplished judicator and it just… it  _ infuriates _ Kara. Because she is more than just the eldest daughter of the House of El, she is more than just her mother’s child. She is diligent and she is clever and she deserves more than for her colleagues to think she got a free pass to a Council job. 

(They think that she didn’t have to work half as hard as them. Which may be true for the other scions of the noble houses, but Kara— Kara inherited a legacy from a mother who joined the Consular League as soon as she left the academy. Kara had to work twice as hard to even be noticed.)

And really, after the whole… Val-Em incident, it’s probably better that she stays quiet and avoids embarrassing her House any further. 

So, there she is. Fiddling with her bracelet in her private cabin on a shuttle en route to Slaver’s Moon. A shuttle that she had to take after being dropped off at the Thoronian waypoint because direct travel from Kryptonian sovereign voidspace to any territory that hadn’t signed the anti-slavery clause of the trade treaties. And yet, no one had deemed it necessary to tell that to the Daxamite diplomat who insisted that they conduct their meeting at a rao-damned  _ banquet _ on the biggest hub of slavery in the system. 

Not that Ma-Vek of Daxam wouldn’t know this. The Daxamites go out of their way to make life difficult for anyone they deign beneath them, which is, let’s be honest,  _ everyone. _

She thunks her head against the headboard of her cramped bunk.  _ Deep breaths, Kara,  _ she tells herself.  _ Just one banquet, just one meeting, and then you can fly home to scrub the stench of slavery off yourself. _

The screen on the side of her cabin beeps as they prepare to exit hyperspace. Kara straps herself in and glowers at the image of the stupid hunk of rock that she’s sure will bring her nothing but misery.

-

When Lena found the banged up alien satellite and patched it up, she was excited out of her mind at the prospect of contacting extraterrestrial life. Extraterrestrial life who, from the looks of the satellite, were far more advanced than humans; she spent that entire week waiting for a return signal drafting up questions to ask. How did you solve poverty, she wanted to ask. Do you have a similar model of development as humans, and if so, what comes next? 

Turns out, more technologically advanced doesn’t mean culturally more advanced. Well, not that humans are that much more developed anyway. But really, thousands of years of advancement, and there’s still a slavery industry? That doesn’t even hide behind trite labels like prison labour? 

They sent Lena a blueprint of a teleporter that would help her transport food and resources anywhere, solve worldwide problems, and she fell for it like an idiot. She accepted their initial coupling of the L-Corp teleporter to theirs, thinking they’d help her set everything up, but no. 

Only a last minute change of plans prevented her from becoming the tool to an enslavement of the underdeveloped human race as a whole. Except that, well, those change of plans involved her jumping to the other side and closing the portal from there. 

Lena sighs as she picks at her metal cuffs once again. So, here she is. Stuck on some rock lightyears away from home and chained up to be sold as a slave. Not what she wanted to do with her life, but when did life ever happen the way she wanted it to? Orphaned at the age of four, adopted into a house clearly as a charity case, shoved back into the closet by her adoptive mother, the list goes on. Lex was really her only saving grace, and she loves him still, but he  _ had _ to throw that fucking hissy fit when she told him she was going to research and teach at M.I.T. instead of joining the LuthorCorp R&D team and… well. Things have been tense between them ever since. 

At least she stopped it all before they got to the rest of the university. Billy, her master’s student and possibly the sweetest and smartest kid she’s ever met, was grading papers in her office upstairs from the lab at the time and Lena doesn’t know what she would’ve done if they’d managed to grab him, too. Or any of the students and staff. 

Every so often, the slavers will march a group of…  _ customers _ past her cell and rattle off a speech to them in their language, and she’ll glare as hard as she can to try and put them off. There’s no way in hell she’s going to let herself be bought before she can finish studying the guard rotation pattern, or the lock system, or everything else— she’s  _ this _ close to busting out of here. 

The ground is hard and the wall she’s curled up against is cold but Lena closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. She just needs to bide her time. Slip out in the confusion of that stupid banquet they’re throwing tomorrow night. She’s so ready to make her way home and never look back at this miserable hellhole. 


	2. can you believe this shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the late post! I'll be updating on sunday nights now, just because my schedule was a bit punishing before. 
> 
> a few notes on the kryptonian stuff in here: 
> 
> Ma-Vek is just a commoner with a high position and Kara is aristocracy, to explain the ways everyone is addressing each other. 
> 
> a bloodmorel is a kind of nasty mosquito
> 
> jran is a neutral honorific, basically Mr. or Ms. 
> 
> Yrthium is basically kryptonian for 'earthling'

Of  _ course _ she’s personally greeted by Ma-Vek when the shuttle lands. He grins wide when he catches sight of her, stepping forward on the red sand that stretched on into the horizon. The place would look like a desolate wasteland if not for the towering palace atop the craig— Kara thinks it ironic that the very palace itself is the most desolate, morally deprived place of all.

“Lady Kara Zor-El!” He greets with a jovial, familiar tone, bowing once as he reaches her. “Good journey, my lady. It is  _ such _ a pleasure to meet you—” he makes to kiss her hand and she lets him, as she’s expected to— “you are as beautiful as they say.”

Kara plasters on an amicable smile, giving him a small nod of the head as well. “Good journey, Ma-Vek’jran. The pleasure is mine.”

He gives her this smug smile like he knows that this is her first assignment, like he thinks he’s going to play her like an instrument and get what he wants, and she smiles all the wider for the fury building in her gut. 

“Come now, let us step inside. A dreadful sandstorm is building, I’ve been told.” He extends his arm for Kara to take. She does with practiced grace and they start walking into the palace, followed by attendants. “A pity. The sunsets are awfully beautiful here. Is this your first time visiting?”

_ You know damn well it is, you insufferable bloodmorel.  _

“I’m afraid so, jran,” she says, nodding with a delicate smile. 

“To think I could have had the privilege to show your excellency the sights— oh,” he sighs deeply, putting on a good, polite show of enthusiasm. “My heart is wounded.”

Kara gives him a soft laugh. “Perhaps another time.”

Then they cross the threshold into the welcoming hall, the three-story tall gates booming shut behind them. Kara’s eyes sweep over the majestic room lit by golden lights and feels all the more sick for how resplendent it is, for how the other nobility mill about with their refreshments.

“It’s splendid, isn’t it?” Ma-Vek preens, leading her through two lines of bowing attendants. Her shoes sink in the plush red carpet and she fights not to clench her fists. “Real twenty-third century Mircallan architecture, only restored once.”

Kara is usually very enthusiastic about historic sites and heritage artifacts. She wanted to become an Archive Keeper as a child, after all. But all she can manage right now is to smile blandly, because yes, she knows all about this castle— it belonged to Emperor Harmek-Kef the Mad, and he committed a genocide within these walls. There is nothing awe-inspiring or beautiful about its bloody history. 

He looks about at the soft golds and reds, the silver-lined walls, seemingly unaware. Seemingly. Kara knows that he’s completely aware of how uncomfortable he’s making her. 

“The vintage feyfyre lamps are quite gorgeous, I agree,” she says, pretending to appraise them. “Shall we proceed to the banquet hall, then?”

He blinks at her owlishly for a few moments before his face falls dramatically, and Kara braces herself for whatever theatrics he’s going to pull from his tailored suit sleeves.

“Oh, Rao preserve me. I am so, so sorry, your excellency, I—” he pulls away to touch his forehead to the back of her hand. “I had meant to send you the missive that the banquet has been pushed back a few hours. I have no words, my lady, I can only beg your forgiveness—”

Well. So much for planning her flights precisely to spend as little time here as possible. Ma-Vek is making a show of his apology and trapping her into accepting, and her gears grind at the sight of him pulling such an elementary trick.

“Please, Ma-Vek’jran, it’s no trouble.” She smiles graciously. “I will simply need to change my travel arrangements.”

“Please allow me to handle that for you, your excellency,” he pleads, bowing again. “I have no words. Would you allow me to give you a tour of the castle, my lady?” He looks up at her with a hint of a smile that onlookers can’t see. “You seemed quite interested in the architecture— it is the very least I could do to earn your forgiveness.”

And there it is, the thing he’s being setting her up for the moment she stepped off the shuttle. Kara bites the inside of her lip to stop herself from reacting, because Rao damn it, she’s played right into his hand like a clueless idiot. She should have expected this. She should have been on her guard, because she knows that the Daxamites have been itching for an excuse to start up a conflict. 

Ma-Vek knows that being forced to look at the rest of the slaver’s palace, possibly even passing by the cells, will unsettle her, will enrage her— and an angry diplomat is the most incompetent. He’s trying to goad her until she makes a misstep that he can capitalize on.

It’s all just so slimy and elementary and she’s so angry at herself for not seeing through it. 

“Of course, jran,” she says, smiling. “Lead the way.”

-

It’s one of the wardens that end up giving them the tour, anyhow. Kara’s sure her jaw’s locked up from all the forced smiling she’s had to do in the past while, pretending to be interested as the warden goes on and on about their “security measures”—

“Every door leading outside the holding ward is equipped with a barrier,” the warden says, the golden light looking jaundiced on his pale skin. “To keep the merchandise from escaping, of course.”

Yeah, Kara feels really sick.

“How does it work?” Ma-Vek asks with feigned interest, as if he doesn’t already know. He’s been asking the warden to elaborate on every little wretched detail.

“Well, you see,” the warden says delightedly, straightening his pressed suit collar. “All of the stock are equipped with a chip applied to their neural systems. The top of the spine, for all the vertebrae biped species. When the chip passes through one of the barrier fields, it applies a shock strong enough to incapacitate them.” He seems so pleased with himself. “It doesn’t damage them at all, of course. The pain signal is directly triggered in the nervous system, so no real harm is induced.”

Kara nods as if that’s fascinating information. She wonders how any sentient being could take such pleasure and pride in torture— how degenerate of a being one has to be to stoop to that level. 

“And here we are, the first row of cells!” the warden says as he leads them through a set of golden doors into a markedly darker hallway. “These are our top selections today. Please, browse at your leisure.”

Kara draws her hands behind her back so she can clench them under the cover of her half-cape— her entire body burns with rage and shame at the thought that she is the one to bring her house sigil into this den of depravity. 

“Mm, that’s a nice specimen of Tamaranean you have there,” Ma-Vek says as they pass by one of the cells— inside, a golden man with glowing green eyes glares at them with his hands bound in a metal box.

“Ah, yes, young and strong,” the warden says. “Would you be interested, sire?”

He shakes his head. “No, not today. But I may pass the information along to the royal family if you’ll hold him for a while. My King has been in need for a new attendant.”

“Of course, sire,” the warden bows, grinning. Kara tries to keep her smile as still as a statue as she follows along to Ma-Vek’s  _ impossibly _ leisurely walk. 

_ Deep breaths, _ she reminds herself.  _ A true heart remains calm in cruel places. _

She uses her mother’s mantra on herself as they walk into view of the next cell.

“What is  _ that? _ ” Ma-Vek asks, fascinated as he points. 

The warden lights up. “An Yrthium, my lord. They call themselves ‘ _ hyoomahns _ ’. This is our first capture of them.”

“Absolutely fascinating,” Ma-Vek mutters, as if in awe as he steps towards the yellow force field. “You couldn’t tell them apart from a Kandorian species. Where are they from?”

“A quaint little backwater called the Cerean cluster, my lord…”

Their words tune out as Kara stares at the captive. She takes stock of the foreign characteristics— the impossibly dark hair, the strange white robe over oddly simple clothes— but what strikes her the most are the  _ eyes _ . They stare right back at Kara with nothing like contempt or rage or desperation— Kara’s captivated by the calculating greens of this alien. 

Kara takes a step closer to the barrier, peering closer. The alien perks up at that, cautiously standing up and taking slow steps forward. 

“Ah! I can’t believe it!” the warden exclaims. “She’s finally done something other than refuse food and stare. How charming,” he says happily, clapping his hands together. “She must have taken a liking to you, my lady.”

It takes all of Kara’s willpower not to whip a glare at the miserable little man, focusing instead on deciphering the look on the alien’s face. It’s a strange stare, almost completely neutral but intense. 

“Would you perhaps be interested in purchasing her, my lady?” the warden says. “You are the only one she’s managed to respond to.”

Kara just barely stops herself from flinching away. 

“No, of course no—” she takes a deep breath. “I have no need, at the moment. Thank you.” She gives Ma-Vek a cheerful smile. “Shall we keep moving? There’s an entire castle to see, still.”

An amused smirk flashes over his face for a split second before he breaks into a wide, friendly grin. “Of course, my lady. I am so glad to see you enjoying what little apology I can offer.”

_ Deep. Breaths. _

She’s about to turn away when the Yrthium lets out a pained shriek, falling onto the ground— Kara jerks to attention, hands hovering in panicked concern.

“What’s happening?” she asks over the clamour of guards rushing to the cell, watching the way the alien clutches her stomach and curls in on herself. “What’s wrong with her?”

The warden clucks his tongue. “Please stay back, my lady, I’m so sorry you have to see this—”

The guards power down the barrier and step in, but the alien only screams louder when they try to pull her upright.

“Don’t hurt her!” Kara yells before she can stop herself, stepping towards them—

“No, my lady, please stay back—”

It happens in a flash. One second she’s prying the guards off of the alien, the next she’s got an arm wrapped around her neck, flailing as the alien pulls a sidearm she stole from the guards and points it at her head. 

She should be terrified. She would be, if she hadn’t seen the split second just before the alien took her hostage— the alien flicks the safety on quickly before she brings it anywhere near Kara.

The alien yells something in her language, pushing the barrel of the gun right against Kara’s temple. The guards flinch and look towards the warden, their rifles pulled too late.

“Let her go,” the warden says lazily, scowling as if he’s simply annoyed. Ma-Vek stares in ostensible concern, but she can see the glimmer of glee and amusement in his eyes. 

The alien grabs Kara tighter, shuffling out of her cell and then backwards towards the exit— Kara scrabbles at her arm a little, because she can’t breathe, and the grip loosens just the slightest.

It all really hits her when she sees the slight tremble in the alien’s hands. This person doesn’t want to hurt Kara. She’s going out of her way not to hurt Kara, even in a situation as dire as this— making sure to lock the safety, trying not to choke Kara—

She recognizes the pattern of soft calluses on her hands. Hers are the hands of a thinker, a creator, like her father. This alien has probably never held a weapon with any intention to fire before this.

They near the exit to the ward and Kara stiffens as she remembers the “security measures”— the alien pushes the gun against her harder, snarling something in her unfamiliar language when Kara tries to stop.

“Wait, please,” Kara begs, grabbing at the alien’s arm and using her height advantage to keep them from passing through the threshold. “Please, I don’t want you to get hurt!” 

She points desperately at the blinking mechanism above the doorway, and the alien looks at it, puzzled— the wary grimace that she gives Kara isn’t exactly understanding but Kara’s just glad it’s enough to stop them.

The warden bring his guards around the hallway to them, as if they’ve been marching slowly without concern. He crosses his arms and drawls something in an unfamiliar language. The alien clutches Kara, tighter, presses the gun harder— the warden sighs with something like defeat and Kara can only guess at how the conversation’s gone.

“Kill her,” the warden says with a flick of his hand. “But make sure not to harm the lady diplomat, or I’ll have you all flogged.”

“Wait!” Kara stumbles a little as she holds up her hands. The guards stop, unsure. “Wait. Don’t kill her.”

The warden frowns apologetically. “Please, my lady, I have no words for this incident, such a crime as laying a hand on the nobility must be punished accordingly— unless you’d like to administer it yourself?”

“No, no,”  _ Rao help me, no _ . She squeezes her eyes shut in a grimace before opening them again with the calmest expression she can manage. “Give her to me.”

The warden blinks. “I’m sorry?” 

“Give her to me,” Kara repeats, choking on the gruesome taste of the words coming out of her mouth. “I’ll— I’ll buy her.”

After a puzzled pause, the warden lights up, gleefully clapping his hands again.

“Oh, my goodness, this is splendid news! We haven’t had patronage from the great house of El in  _ centuries! _ ” He snaps at his croneys, yelling out a few quick orders before turning back to Kara with a bow. “I will make all the arrangements, my lady, I cannot tell you how ecstatic I am to have your forgiveness.”

The alien takes a confused half-step back when the guards come towards them but with lowered rifles. Kara takes a tight hold of her, hating herself for doing this, but— 

But she can’t have this person killed. She can’t have the power over one person’s life, have it dangling in front of her and just—  _ not _ do anything. 

Her heart breaks as the alien panics and tries to make a run for it when the guards approach, struggling against Kara’s grip.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kara whispers, trying to reassure her. “It’s going to be okay, I’ll get you out of here—”

But of course, the alien doesn’t understand. Kara watches the guards grab the alien and drag her away while she screams, dark hair falling over her face— 

If this is the right thing to do, why does it feel so awful?

“Don’t hurt her,” she insists as guards drag her down the hallway. It sounds feeble, false, complacent and complicit and she hates herself so much. 

The warden approaches her with a grin, pulling a sheaf from his suit and passing it to her.

“This is the standard selling contract, but of course, a lady such as yourself can ask for far better terms…”

Kara nods numbly. She thinks about the alien’s terrified face, Ma-Vek’s inevitably smug grin, and her mother— 

Oh. Rao. Her mother is going to kill her. 


	3. language troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry about the lack of update last week; I'm kind of stumped with this story in away, I'm mostly just flailing around trying to figure out how to get where I want. 
> 
> Also, this fic is shaping out to have pretty short chapters. I'm sorry! hopefully they'll turn more substantial soon.
> 
> And don't worry about the kryptonian in this chapter-- I purposely left it untranslated to sort of recreate that feeling of helplessness when you don't understand a language.

_ “And that concludes today’s lecture,” Lena says with a flourish of her projector remote. “Now before I assign your homework, do you have any questions?” _

_ She leans against her podium, looking out at the sea of students in the giant auditorium. _

_ “Yes, Suvi?” she points. _

_ The girl sits up and presses the button on the mic in front of her to speak into it. _

_ “So if it’s statistically impossible that we’re alone in the galaxy, why haven’t we found aliens yet?” _

_ Lena chuckles a little.  _

_ “If you want to hear a full explanation on my theory for that, you’ll have to take my 400 level course on it next year,” she says, getting a small wave of laughs from the room. “But the short answer is, it’s either that they’re not technologically advanced enough to show up on our telescopes, or that there is already a thriving galactic community that is purposely leaving us alone.” She smiles genially. “Anything else? Yes, Safiya?” _

_ The dark haired girl leans into her mic.  _

_ “If they  _ are _ out there, what do you think they’ll be like?” _

_ Lena smiles apologetically. “Unfortunately, I’m an astrophysicist, not an evolutionary biologist. My guess is as good as yours.” _

_ “No, I mean,” the girl says, before anyone else can raise their hand. “What kind of people do you think they’ll be?” _

_ Lena blinks for a few moments.  _

_ “I’ve never been asked that before,” she says with a slight laugh as she pushes up her glasses. “Well, again, I tinker with telescopes in the basement here, your anthropology 101 probably teaches you more than I know about behavioural patterns.” She smiles and waits for the wave of chuckles to fade. “But I’d think that— they wouldn’t be so different from us. Different cultures, different flaws, a diverse mess in their own right.” She pauses thoughtfully.  _

_ “I guess if I had to say, then I sincerely hope that when we  _ do _ make contact one day, we, as the human race, will have learned from history. That we won’t let our governments attempt mass colonization or exploitation of these people. It’s my hope that first contact will happen peacefully, with kindness. We would have so much to learn from each other, after all.” _

_ She pauses for a moment to smile at her students before clapping her hands together. _

_ “Alright, I think that’s enough philosophical debate for today,” she laughs. “Next Monday, I’d like you to hand in your first assignment, as per the guidelines I posted on the course site. Have a great weekend, everyone.” _

-

Lena wakes to an impossibly soft fabric underneath her cheek, and for a moment burrows further into it. It’s so soft, it’s so nice, it’s so not like the hard cell ground she’s been sleeping on for a week—

The cell. She jolts up and runs a hand through her hair, jumping when she finds herself clothed in— a black dress? She brings the sleeve up to her face and examines the lace that feels like it’s woven out of water. 

She looks around at the room she’s in— it’s decorated in warm colours, with strangely shaped ornaments on surfaces and a various collection of what looks like extremely advanced technology, much sleeker than the mechanisms she saw at the prison. The far side of the room is a big window curving outwards, and Lena carefully gets up from the bed to examine the world outside. 

It’s— a city. More than that, it’s an absolutely titanic city, stretching as far as the horizon, with huge spires reaching for the sky and a thin concentration of flying shuttles that whizz by the buildings. Everything has such round corners, made mostly of what seems like glass, and the sun—

Lena thought the sun was setting, but it’s actually high enough in the sky that it should be noon. It shines red light down onto the planet and Lena sucks in a breath. 

It’s silly, really. She knows she’s not home, on earth. But she never saw the planet she was enslaved on, and this is the first time— the first time that she’s really looking out at the scenery of a whole other planet. She’s actually there, in another world. 

There’s a whooshing sound behind her and she turns to see a woman in a white dress walk in through a doorway she hadn’t noticed because it looks unconventional—

“Nahn rraop w’fish!” The woman says, in her strange language, and Lena recognizes her as the woman she took hostage. 

“Oh, god,” she mutters to herself, taking a step backwards, looking around frantically for something she can use to defend herself. 

“Ta’kolir-odh w’bem?” the woman says, walking even closer, and Lena thinks it’s a question from the intonations but she’s not sure. The alien looks like she did at the prison, concerned and fascinated, and— not at all like she’s upset that Lena held her at gunpoint.

Because, yes, she might have made sure the safety was on so she didn’t freak out and accidentally blow some innocent person’s brains out— but the alien doesn’t know that. 

“Sozhao’nahn w krishai,” the alien tries again, with a small smile, and Lena notes the way she looks almost completely human. From the long blonde hair to the kind blue eyes there’s nothing to indicate that she and Lena aren’t from the same planet. 

But they are, and this is the alien who kept her from escaping and handed her back to the slavers, so when she steps closer Lena involuntarily flinches. 

The alien holds up her hands, as if to placate her. 

“Nahn w’:bish. Nahn rraop w’voi.”

Lena shakes her head.

“I don’t— I don’t understand you.”

That gives the alien pause. 

“Zha’nahvruht w’khup,” she says, running a hand through her hair and grimacing like she’s faced with a particularly hard problem. 

Lena flinches again when the door whooshes open once more— now she’s basically pressed into a corner of the room while another woman in a blue dress with a similarly odd, asymmetrical design sweeps into the room.

The alien in the white dress turns to her and deflates visibly. 

“Erosh :bem, eh ieiu.” 

The blue dress alien glowers without a response. Her eyes flicker towards Lena and Lena just shrinks further into the corner.

“Ta’nahn zhehd w’shehd to voikir-ahzh rrip?”

The blonde alien nods. “Zhi, eh ieiu.”

“Ta’nahvruht-odh rrip w’tiv sheahgehd podh?”

The alien in the blue dress obviously holds some sort of authority over the one in the white. She folds her hands behind her back.

“Nahn rritiv rrivgehd w’doshokh, eh Kara. Tulim pohdh-ehd nahn rritiv udolzrhygahs w’:zhalishah w’fanfo, izo zhatulim w’lorakho.”

Lena sees a pointy statue of what looks like a dragon on what seems like a nightstand near her. If it’s not too heavy, she could use it as a weapon.

The blonde alien squares her shoulders.

“Kehgier-i khup w’pahdhagehd-uju.”

Blue’s response is sharp and quick.

“Zha’kegier-i.”

And Lena  _ really _ wishes she could understand what they’re saying— because even though she’s scared out of her mind, there’s that insatiable part of her that’s still screaming about the fact that she’s on another planet, in the presence of  _ actual aliens _ . Who have interstellar travel. And what seems like an insanely complicated infrastructure that can support a population of intense density and god, Lena wants to  _ know— _

But yeah, she also held one of them at gunpoint and that’s not going to go over well. She can’t really— she doesn’t really understand why she’s been moved into a real room with a real bed and given fresh clothes, though. 

“Fidh rraop nim w’zha’skilorah ehm fidh khahp nim gehd-uju w’dhugh,” Blue says sharply.

Blonde sighs deeply.

“Doshai, eh ieiu. Zha’kehp-odh w’mokhahjah.”

Blue grimaces and massages her temples once before fixing Blonde with another sharp glare.

“Kao’skilor-u w’fidh rrip nim zhehd zhavehle chao ghozhivah.” Blue looks at Lena again and she tries to pretend she hasn’t been thinking about taking a blunt weapon to get herself out of there. “Rrof-u rraop w’Lorra’i’syl bim ehm timzeht.”

And with that, Blue sweeps out of the room, leaving her alone with Blonde once more. The alien doesn’t turn around to face Lena for a while, just staring at her feet, wringing her hands, and Lena would take this moment as her chance to run but—

This… alien, this  _ person _ , looks so sad. Lena thinks about the gun and the hostage-taking and the way the alien held her with such a sorry expression, and she just—

She needs to get her thoughts in order, is what she needs. Her mind is nothing but a jumble of questions about every piece of machinery in the room and the city outside and  _ why _ she’s still alive after threatening someone of obvious importance and what she has to do to fight her way home.

The alien turns around then, with a sunny smile that Lena recognizes if only because she herself has forced herself to smile through awful situations one too many times.

“Doshai.” Her smile falters when she looks Lena over, and Lena realizes that she probably looks  _ pathetic, _ curled into the corner like a frightened animal. 

“Zha’:zugiv-u khuhp w’rraop,” she says again in a soft voice, taking a small, slow step. “Sozhao’nahn w’krishai.”

There’s something soothing about this alien’s voice and Lena tries— she tries really hard not to let her guard down. 

(For the first time since moving out of the Luthor mansion, she hates how  _ gay _ she is. This alien who could easily kill her, who Lena doesn’t understand if she has good or bad intentions  _ at all _ , is being soft and pretty and Lena  _ wants _ to relax.)

“Nahn khuhp w’Kara,” she says, placing a hand on her chest, before gesturing to Lena. “Ta’nahn w’rraop’i’threv?”

Lena looks from the hand placed on the alien’s chest to the open palm extended towards her. It looks like— it looks like she’s trying to introduce herself.

“W’Kara?” she asks.

The alien giggles and shakes her head. “Zha. Nahn Kara w’khuhp’i’threv.” 

“Slow down, I can’t—” Lena stumbles. “I can’t understand you.”

The alien stares thoughtfully, and of course, she probably can’t understand either. She tilts her head, kind of like a puppy, and tries again.

“Kara,” she says again, patting herself on the chest again. She waves her other hand at Lena once more, expectant.

Lena gulps. Okay, so, this alien—  _ Kara _ — is trying to learn her name. And a million different scenarios where it ends badly for Lena plays in her head but she wants to trust this girl. She wants to learn more, not just about the technology and the planet but about this girl who— who, for all intents and purposes, seems to have saved her from that awful place. 

She hears Lillian sneering in her head about being weak-willed, she hears Lex warning her not to trust anyone, and she swallows harshly.

That’s the life she left behind. She’s more than just a cold-hearted Luthor— she’s a scientist, she’s a scholar, she’s—

“Lena,” she says, finally, taking a small step away from the wall. “I’m Lena.”

Kara gives her a blinding smile, her eyes crinkling with joy and Lena’s pretty sure  _ no one _ has ever been that happy to learn her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: hey guys! i know a lot of you have been asking for translations, but I just wanted to reassure you not to worry too much about the kryptonian in this chapter! It's not saying anything particularly important, or things you can't glean from the tone of their conversation.
> 
> I intentionally left it untranslated as a choice because this story will be dealing with a lot of themes about language, and how it's sort of used as entry into a culture. I wanted to purposely recreate that feeling of being in a hostile environment where you are made additionally powerless by being unable to understand the language, or have any agency in what's going on because of that, even if people are trying to help you. 
> 
> Language is a hard thing that takes a lot of dedication to grasp; if someone wanted to understand the conversation here, they would have to go on kryptonian.info themselves and try to piece together the sentences, as with any other language- and I wanted that barrier to exist for Lena as well as anyone in real life reading from her perspective. I'm really experimenting a lot with language barriers and meta statements, especially since writing is such a language-based medium. 
> 
> tl;dr you'll be learning Kryptonian alongside Lena, in a way, so this conversation will go untranslated save for the fragmentary translation notes in my extra content.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, want the next chapter now? Translation notes? worldbuilding info? check me out at:
> 
> http://wtfoctagon.tumblr.com/post/161395827596/wtfoctagons-extra-content-masterpost
> 
> All Kryptonian used in this fic is the Doyle system from www.kryptonian.info - it's super awesome, so go check it out!


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